


Colorful Reverie

by mggislife2789



Category: Criminal Minds, Spencer Reid - Fandom
Genre: Cognitive Interview, F/M, Pregnancy, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 18:05:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10904598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mggislife2789/pseuds/mggislife2789
Summary: Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or their original stories. This is only for fun. It's where my brain goes after the credits roll. No copyright intended. Better safe than sorry. ;)





	Colorful Reverie

Every time he told you not to. 

And every time you ignored his wishes.

You could see it in his eyes. 

The only things keeping him tethered to reality were you and this baby - and as much as he claimed he wanted you to leave, you could tell that without your visits, he would be lost to this new world.

“Y/N,” he breathed, his eyes already beginning to water. He looked worse since the last time you saw him. His eyes were sunken, practically disappearing into that beautiful face of his - the one that was slowly but surely losing its belief in the world. “Why?”

Spencer was petrified, not of being here, not of who he feared he was becoming, but of watching you walk in and out of his sight. Every time you walked into the prison, you put your life and the life of your baby in danger, but you were the only things that held any hope of bringing him back, so you walked into the fire at least once a week, desperate to get him to remember. “You know why,” you said attempting to step close to him. The second you did, you were reprimanded by the guard. It was bad enough not having Spencer’s touch for yourself, but the fact that your baby, yours and Spencer’s baby, had yet to feel its father’s embrace killed you. 

“How are you?” he asked, desperate to place his hand on yours. It had been so long. 

For the first time since you’d walked in, your face softened into a smile. “We’re okay. Let’s get started. We need you home…close your eyes.”

It was the same thing. Every time. His mind would allow him to get to the point where he saw Nadie Ramos, but he couldn’t move past it. “I’m sorry,” he said, opening his eyes and standing up from the table. “I can’t remember.” He turned around and opened the door, refusing to look back at you. If he did, they’d have to tear him limb from limb to remove him from your view.

—–

When you first told him you were pregnant, you showed him the sonogram. That entire visit, he stared at the photo, etching the image of your baby in his mind. 

As he lay in his cell, he used the pencil that Shaw had managed to get for him to mark off another day. Another 24 hours spent inside these four walls. Then he closed his eyes. Each day he spent in here, the beautiful colors in the world changed their shade. Each day he felt closer to gray. But when he opened his eyes and lifted the pencil once more, the lines curved and etched a familiar form, one he’d engrained in his mind. Your baby, with your name written around it. Outside your name, the colors still faded in and out, but inside, your baby shone bright, leading him to the light as he fell asleep.

—–

When you got up that morning, you swallowed a handful of pills for you and baby Reid. You were doing everything you could to keep this baby healthy and help Spencer out of prison. Sleep had eluded you, at least in lengthy intervals, for the entirety of Spencer’s incarceration. Staying up late to examine every piece of evidence the Bureau had with a fine tooth comb probably wasn’t helping, but you were so close. With any hope, rest would come soon. 

For the second time that week, you pulled on your coat and made your way to the prison, feeling closer than ever before to pulling Spencer’s memory back to you. “Hi honey,” you said softly, pulling out a new sonogram picture. Moments passed before he looked up at you again, he was trying to memorize this new picture. “Close your eyes,” you whispered.

Again, you got back to the same point. “I want you to tune into the background. After the spray, what do you hear?”

“It’s soft,” he said.

“What is?”

“The voice.”

This was the first time he’d heard anything after the spray of the drugs. “What is Scratch saying?”

“It’s not Scratch,” he said, his eyes shooting open. “The person who framed me wasn’t Scratch…it was a woman.”

With that, you turned to the guard, told him to go fuck himself and stole a kiss from your husband before leaving. “We’re going to get you out and you’re going to come home to us.”

As you left, for the first time since he entered, you saw hope in his eyes.

—–

With the new information, you got closer and closer, until she actually had the gaul to enter the prison with his mother in tow. She’d been living down the hall and assisting with your mother-in-law’s care for months, and she’d been the one that fucked up your lives. Along with Cat Adams. If you had your way, they’d both be dead soon.

“Emily?” you asked as you walked into her office that morning. “Any luck?” She said she was going to plead Spencer’s case in the morning, and she was putting her job on the line to do it…but it paid off.

“Go get him,” she smiled.

—–

Shaw had threatened his life. He had done everything he could to get himself isolated, give the team and you enough time to get him out, but this was it. He was going to die. If that was the case, he was going to ensure the last thing that entered his mind was a picture of you and the baby. 

Behind his eyelids, the colors sprang to life. And then the opening of the door knocked him out of his reverie. There you were.

“Welcome home,” you cried, stretching your arms out and enveloping your boyfriend in your embrace. “You’re coming home.” 

His head hit your shoulder and you clutched onto him for dear life. “It’s almost over.” Grabbing your face in his hands, he took your mouth in a desperate kiss that re-anchored him to the world, before crouching down to kiss your stomach. 

“Let’s go get grandma,” he said, grabbing your hand and walking out of the prison. 

With any luck, this really was almost over. You, the baby, Spencer, and Diana would be together again soon. A family. No longer an etching.


End file.
